Fic: An Exercise in Politics 2/2

[suaine]

Part 1

Morgana grimaced, shaking her head. "Absolutely not. It would have been foolish to fight when I left and it's foolish now. Camelot is in no position to help us, they're- you are surrounded by enemies who would take any indication of weakness or delusions of grandeur and hang Arthur with it."

Gwen rolled her eyes. "Merlin wouldn't let anything like that happen."

They were arguing in hushed tones, so as not to wake Gwydre who lay curled against his mothers side, huffing with the kind of dream Morgana had suffered from all her life. Gwen recognized the expression on his face, Morgana's features through and through, the curve of his shoulders a defence against the night.

"Merlin, what can Merlin do against steel? Magic is no substitute for numbers." Morgana looked stern, but not unbelieving or angry - she'd known, Gwen was sure of it now, and she'd been ready to fight this losing battle until its bitter end.

"You haven't seen him," Gwen said, remembering the attack on Camelot just after Uther's death, the cowardly hope by a southern lord whose name had become a curse word in the years after. "Merlin is an army in himself, even if Arthur doesn't like to let him use this power." The siege had come in Arthur's time of grieving, and Merlin had wiped them away in a fit of rage that had only lessened in the telling. Children were told to behave and eat their soup with the threat of Merlin's wrath.

Morgana's hand found Gwen's on the bed linen, tangling inextricably. "I don't care what Merlin can do, he isn't here and neither is Arthur. I would not ask for their help and they aren't offering, so the question is moot."

Gwen squeezed Morgana's hand hard, earning herself a petulant frown. Sometimes it was so obvious that Morgana and Arthur had grown up much the same way, clashing only because they were so similar. "I am offering, and as Queen of Camelot, my word is as binding as that of Arthur's first knight or court sorcerer - more so, even, my word is linked to his. If I say Camelot will stand with you, then it will."

Morgana looked away at the mention of Gwen's title and that had to be the most ridiculous issue between them. Gwen was no different than she had been when Morgana had been well within rights to boss her around, the crown should not make a difference, not if they were still friends, not if- but Morgana had never felt anything other than friendship, had she? It could be jealousy of her, perhaps, Morgana could be in love with Arthur for all Gwen knew.

Gwen leaned her head against Morgana's shoulder, sighing for all the things they'd never said. It wasn't the time, or the place, to let herself be honest. "You've been my greatest friend, Morgana, and I can't watch you do this to yourself. You mustn't be here when Banan arrives."

Morgana breathed a sigh and some tension left her body. "I can't leave my people to face the kind of tyranny that would undoubtedly come with the reign of Banan. He's the kind of man who would execute a family's weakest child to send a message and yet have them retain most of their value to him. He's cruel beyond the telling of it and rules his kingdom with fear and blood."

It was inconceivable, sometimes, that in the way of kings and warlords, Uther had been one of the better examples, a man with principles and a just hand. If it hadn't been for his temper and his irrational fear of magic, Uther would have made a great king. One of the best. Gwen shuddered. At least Arthur had the chance now to do things right, to be the kind of king the people needed.

"Morgana," Gwen said, but fell silent at the expression on Morgana's face. She looked very young all of a sudden, despite the lines that spoke of age measured in more than just years. Morgana's fingers slackened in her grasp, not pulling away but giving the sense of it anyway, rejection and deniability, a very noble "fuck you". It made Gwen clench her teeth and hold on tighter. She'd seen Morgana at her worst, sweating and raving and barely a person under the pressure of her visions. If Morgana wanted her to leave, she would have to say it out loud.

"Morgana," she began again, more certain now of what she needed to do, to say, to make this work. "For a long time, I have been your friend from a position of uncertainty. I never let myself believe that we could be true companions, I was always so aware of who I was, of my place in the world. I haven't been comfortable in my skin for years, with the crown and Arthur, with the whole of Camelot looking to me to be their heart."

Morgana's eyes skittered over the furniture, never staying long in one place, clearly uncomfortable with this line of discussion. Gwen didn't care, she had years' worth of repression to disclose. "Arthur was so kind to me, after you were gone. He treated me like I was a princess, like I deserved every piece of gold, every jewel in his kingdom."

Gwen smiled at the memory of Arthur's bumbling, accidental courtship, something that looked to everyone else like a smitten lover when it was just a friend distracting another friend with ever more ridiculous baubles. It had worked and then it had backfired. "He tried so hard to be what I needed, when we both knew he couldn't replace what I missed. Merlin nearly choked on trying to step out of the way of my need and Arthur's responsibility."

Morgana's knuckles had turned white with strain. Her discomfort satisfied Gwen in a nasty way, knowing that she hadn't been the only one who'd suffered in all this. Morgana looked at her son, one arm framing him protectively against her body. "I don't have to listen to this," Morgana said, quietly, in a voice that belied the harsh words, exposed them as deflection.

Gwen felt anger flare in her, anger like she hadn't experienced since the weeks after her wedding to Arthur, for her two most trusted friends. Merlin and Arthur had been as thick and noble as two men could possibly be, their heroic self-sacrifice making Gwen feel like she was a burden and a hurdle to be overcome. She'd never lost her temper like that with anyone, never made such a public scene before in her life. It had been worth it, ultimately, even as she ended up being lonelier than ever before.

"You and me," Gwen said, her voice shaking a little, "we were always going to be unhappy if we followed the road destiny laid out for us. You, married off to a king twice your age, me growing old and bitter, working for noblewomen who weren't you or in the kitchens. But destiny doesn't always have to be like that. We're equal now, Morgana. There is nothing between us now."

Morgana laughed, the sound echoing like a curse in the heights of the room. "We're equally chained, Gwen, destiny will always have its due."

Gwen shook her head. Their fingers were still entwined, their palms connected. It was that connection that gave her hope. "I don't believe that, and neither do you. If it were true, Arthur would be dead twenty times over."

"Gwen," Morgana said, "I don't want to speak of Arthur now." She sounded resigned, tired, like something had finally broken.

Blinking at the change of tone, Gwen tried to read Morgana's expression, but it was a blank façade meant to distract from her trembling hands. "Every time," Gwen said, realization coming to her slowly, "every time I have mentioned Arthur you have been defensive tonight. What is it about him that sets you off?"

Morgana sighed and turned her head to meet Gwen's eyes. "I envy him. I am green with jealousy for all the things he has that were denied to me."

Gwen tried to smile, but it didn't come easy. If Morgana still harboured resentment toward Arthur over her place in the court of Camelot, there was nothing Gwen could do to fix any of this. "You know," Gwen said, "Arthur would have made you queen, if you'd wanted him to."

Morgana's eyes blazed with anger, as she said, "How can you even say that?"

Gwen shrugged, "I'm only saying that I was not the only one hurting when you left."

But Morgana's emotions were boiling, her rage hot under her skin, and she yanked her hand out of Gwen's grip. "It's not like I had a choice, is it? Well? Aren't you going to tell me how it was all destiny, how there was nothing you or anyone could have done?" Morgana's face contorted in a pained grimace, and Gwen recoiled. Gwen had believed in this, believed in them and their bond, but it didn't change the years that lay between them now, the ways in which they'd been hurt. Morgana looked well enough on the surface, but something inside her had been broken and grown back together all crooked and edged.

"I'm sorry," Gwen said, eyes cast down, watching her hands as if they held the truth of the world. There were a thousand things she could apologize for, a thousand times she could have packed up and followed Morgana, but she hadn't and it was not the time to justify her failures. "I thought I could help you."

With that she got up and walked toward the door, not daring to look back, and maybe a little too proud to beg. She'd learned that her place in the world was the one she made for herself, and sometimes even love wasn't enough to keep her where she wasn't wanted. Morgana didn't call after her and that was that.

+

Gwen found a kitchen maid lurking in the corridors outside Morgana's chambers. The girl looked scared, torn between whatever she'd come here to do and running as far away as she could. Gwen could sympathise.

"Hey," Gwen said, giving her voice a soothing tone, "what's your name? Can I help you with something?"

The girl shook her head, slowly, large eyes staring at a spot behind Gwen's shoulder. "No, m'lady, I was just passing by, really, I have no business here in particular." Then, at Gwen's raised eyebrow, the girl said, "Name's Marie."

Marie, as it turned out, was the daughter of a knight and very vocal about her feelings on the barons - those filthy buggering snakes - and the king's uncle - a devil if I've ever seen 'im - and she would have liked to fight like the Queen if that was ever necessary. Gwen listened to her talk and began forming a plan. The arrival of the king's uncle was imminent and she wouldn't let Morgana sacrifice herself, no matter how much bad blood remained unresolved between them, but to accomplish anything like a rescue, she would need help.

"Marie," she said, filling a lull in the conversation, "there is something I need you to do."

+

Word spread like wildfire through the castle and within an hour, Gwen knew everything there was to know about the loyalties of Morgana's subjects and their desire to see anyone but Banan on the throne. The barons, at least, didn't have nearly as bad a reputation as the late king's kin; most of the land was under their stewardship and the peasants away from the castle tended to look to them more than anybody. The danger lay in their desire to usurp the throne, but that was also their weakness. Only a single one of them would become king, if and only if they could manage to get rid of Gwydre.

In a way, with an army bearing down on them from the east, the barons were more allies than enemies, if Gwen could remove Gwydre and Morgana from their clutches. The eldest knight, Marie's father, ranked highest of those who were left, listened to her story the way she had listened to his daughter, and nodded in all the right places.

"It's a workable solution," he said, and smiled toothily. "But how will you manage to convince the queen to leave? She has her heart set on honourable death."

Gwen sighed and tried not to think of the fight they'd had. "She's a good friend of mine, she will listen to what I have to say."

"The boy is headstrong and he loves his mother very much," said the knight, "make sure that you have him on your side." Gwen nodded and they refined their plans throughout the night, talking to more and more people who all deferred to Gwen as if it was natural.

By dawn, Gwen felt completely exhausted and dead certain that this was the right thing to do. Now all she had to figure out was how to involve Morgana.

+

Morgana's temper had faded once more and she'd been distracted all morning. Gwen enjoyed her discomfort for all of ten seconds and then she set out to make Morgana smile. Strangely enough, that part was almost too easy - Morgana bloomed under the attention and their laughter mixed with the noise of castle life.

"I truly do not know what came over me," Morgana said, holding Gwen's hand as they strolled across the courtyard.

Gwen tried not to remember; instead, she picked a flower from a persistent little plant that grew between the worn stones. "It's not a big deal, really. I understand." And the strange thing was, she did understand. Morgana had lost her place in Camelot, she'd been sold to a man whose only saving grace was that his uncle tended to be a much more cruel king, that of two terrible fates, he was the lesser. Morgana had suffered as his wife, physically on occasion, but always emotionally. Every day of her life here, Morgana had waited for someone to come, for someone to care enough to forget her own warnings, and Gwen had let her down. Then with the birth of Gwydre, Morgana's value to the king had decreased drastically, her life constantly in danger.

That was enough to break anyone.

Gwydre though, Gwydre had been a revelation and it was his life that Gwen invoked to bring Morgana around. "We must leave the castle," she said, when Morgana was just trailing off a story about twelve princes who'd been turned into geese by a powerful sorcerer.

Morgana shook her head, her smile turning a little forced. She stopped walking, looking around at the shacks and small houses pressed into the street like trees competing for a spot of sunlight. "We've discussed this, Gwen. I am not leaving my people."

Gwen narrowed her eyes. "Yes, you are, and I will tell you why." She tugged Morgana forward, then, and into the house where Marie lived with her father. "These people here, they are willing to lose their lives for you. They would die gladly, just following you into a battle you cannot win."

Marie had stood up and was now nodding with an intent frown on her face. "It's true, my Lady, we would do anything you asked of us."

Morgana sighed, leaning against a rickety table for support. "I have a feeling," Morgana said, "that you three have worked this all out and I would be better off just going along with you."

The knight smiled at his sovereign, and they were the very image of the highest form of courtly love - self-sacrifice given gladly and earned with grace. Gwen fought down the urge to roll her eyes at the sappy ideas, and she turned to Marie. "How soon can we leave the castle?"

Marie grinned. "I've already brought up the clothes in a linen basket, they are waiting for you in your Highness' room."

"Great," Gwen said, "and the horses?"

The knight looked at her then, the same devoted expression on his face, and Gwen wondered if it would always be like this from now on. "They will be ready."

It was then that Morgana finally lost her patience. "I'm sure you have all been very efficient in organising all this, but you might have missed a crucial detail. I won't go anywhere unless I know my people are safe."

Gwen realized that it was her turn to lay her cards out on the table. "They will be," she said, and explained her plan to use the barons for protection.

+

It was a simple plan, which made it easy to execute and somewhat resistant to failure. There was nothing to derail its purpose unless Morgana decided to be stubborn about it. Well, more stubborn than usual anyway.

With the regent and the heir gone from the castle, Morgana's knights could offer a truce to the barons. The barons could bicker amongst themselves as much as they wanted, but the stewardship of the kingdom belonged to the council of advisers and the military commander of Morgana's army. For a long while, Gwydre would be a mere figure-head - safely tucked away in Camelot, if all went to plan - but at least the barons couldn't take anything from him if he wasn't there to be robbed.

Day to day activity wasn't anything the barons were interested in, but they would be in the right place once Banan showed up to claim his price. With a promise of taxation rights and almost autonomy under their belts, the barons would be loath to hand anyone else the regency of the kingdom. They'd be heady with their small victory and ready to defend what they thought of as theirs in spirit if not in actuality.

Should it come to a war between the barons and Banan, it would be the kingdom that benefited from it. It was a good plan. All it needed to succeed was the absence of Morgana and Gwydre and a strong, honest man to head the knights.

+

Gwen stuffed the linen shirt into a saddle bag and glared at Morgana across the room. "Pick what you need or don't, but we will be going, and I don't care about all your noble intentions."

Morgana threw a shirt at her, livid and ready to strike with more permanent results than tussled hair, but Gwen couldn't help a small laugh at the antics. They had recreated battles with pillows and dolls when they were younger, throwing clothes was just so-

"Gwen, I-" Morgana started, but then she broke into a freeing, slightly hysteric fit of giggles that infected Gwen, and they both dissolved into great bouts of tears and laughter.

They left the castle that night. Not much more than a full day had passed since Gwen's arrival. She hadn't slept since the night before that, then only in fits and starts, and it seemed like every part of her body ached; every limb was set on fire but could be felt only through a veil of water. Morgana rode ahead, with Gwydre holding on to her back, his face buried into Morgana's cloak. Gwen could barely keep her eyes open.

"We should be looking for shelter," came Morgana's voice, closer than Gwen had expected. Indeed, Morgana rode next to her, close enough to touch if she reached out with her arm. Gwen blinked slowly, and tried to remember when she'd fallen asleep.

Morgana made camp efficiently, and Gwen remembered their first time alone in the woods, two girls who had nothing but Morgana's sword to protect them. Gwen had been terrified then, too scared to find any sleep, and perhaps too caught up in herself to understand why Morgana might have taken her away from the castle.

"You were the best friend I ever had," Gwen said, tired and staring at the fire like it held all the memories that bubbled to the surface now. A cauldron of images that made her smile, images in a book that maybe wasn't quite closed after all. "Even when you ordered me to wash your floors and polish your jewels, you were always my best friend."

Morgana sat next to her on the bedroll, not quite touching Gwen's shoulder with her own. Gwen hadn't the energy to read anything into that. "I didn't know what it was like, having a friend. I'd never had one before, which is..." Morgana trailed off, looking as lost as Gwen felt.

On the other side of the fire, Gwydre snored into his woollen blanket, dark hair sticking up in a wild mess. Gwen smiled, a feeling tugging in her chest, like a dog with a bone. It spread warmth through her limbs and made her drowsy with the comfort of it.

"He likes you," Morgana said, and there was a hand on Gwen's shoulder, stroking slowly up and down her arm. Morgana's hand. Gwen felt torn between leaning into Morgana's body or the caress at her side, and she sighed with the warmth of it all, closing her eyes.

Gwen slept well that night, listening to Morgana's voice as she sang a favorite lullaby, the one she had hummed under her breath whenever Morgana's dreams were strongest.

+

Hengroen found them at the border into Mercia, and Gwen was glad for it. Their horses had grown tired and sluggish with the weight of three people and heavy saddle bags. Morgana didn't ask to ride the stallion and Gwen didn't offer, Hengroen being something of a royal treasure, although he did nose at Gwydre's ear to make the boy squeak.

"He's a smart animal," Morgana said, but didn't elaborate on her observation. Gwen patted Hengroen's neck and promised him sugar beet when they returned home.

Home. It seemed odd that Camelot could have grown so in her memories; it almost made her shiver to think of the place, the people. She'd not allowed herself to miss it, for fear of turning tail and running back to safety, on the road - and then, the day spent in Cern's castle, she hadn't had the time to reminisce. Now though, now they couldn't reach Camelot fast enough.

The road wasn't easy.

At night, Morgana sang Gwydre to sleep, who'd started tucking himself against Gwen's side to keep himself safe from the dreams. They all stayed close and kept the fire maintained until dawn. It developed into a quiet routine, and slowly they began to grow into an easy familiarity, a family maybe.

Mercia was just as unpleasant a place now as it was only a few days ago, but this time Gwen didn't feel nearly as desperate. She wanted to be home, yes, but it would all work out just fine, Morgana was beside her and Gwydre looked up at her with a small, boyish smile. She was content, happy, and it occurred to her that she hadn't felt like this for a very long time. Since Morgana left, really, although it hadn't been about being alone, not in any real sense. She'd been lonely because she'd made herself lonely, pushing away the people who might have helped her with it, nursing the loss she felt for the one person she couldn't have.

They didn't stop in any major towns, but where they did come across people there were murmurs of war. Mercia was uneasy, coiled as tight as a spring. Thanks to small miracles none of the Mercians recognized either Gwen or Morgana, and they made good time toward Camelot. The closer they came, however, the more people noticed them, and a few miles from the border, people began to whisper amongst themselves when they saw them. No one spoke their mind, however.

Slipping into Camelot's territory was easy, like slipping into a favourite old dress, and the first few miles on her own soil, her own lands - hers, Gwen thought, her land, her people - felt like a breath of fresh air. Gwen grinned a little manically, and drove Hengroen to a sprint every once in a while, just revelling in the brush of wind against her face, the whipping air throwing her hair into a frenzied mess.

Then, Camelot.

The first thing Gwen noticed was that she hadn't been gone long at all, the decorations for the feast of Imbolc still clung to the ramparts. The closer they came, the harder her heart beat, and she pointed laughing at all the places she wanted to show Gwydre. She didn't notice, not for the longest time.

Morgana did. Morgana saw, and frowned, and dug her fingers into Gwen's shoulder as they walked through the gates, leading their horses side by side.

"There is going to be war," Morgana said.

Before Gwen could shake her head or say anything, a commotion broke out around them. Gwen had been recognized.

+

They stood before the king, and Arthur looked stormy, worried, but Gwen could not bring herself to care. She was more than just his wife today, more than the queen of a great nation - she was asking for her heart.

"My Lord and King," she said, not wavering over the formality of her speech at all, this she was used to, this she had a lifetime's worth of practice in, "I present you the Lady Morgana, Queen of Deria, and her son, Prince Gwydre, heir apparent of the late King Cern. They seek refuge and support."

This was it, this was the defining moment. Arthur was willing enough, but his advisers had gone into full on panic the moment Gwen had laid out the issue. Never before had she felt the need for a sword in her hand as keenly, with eleven old men ripping her hopes to shreds with such callous indifference. None of that mattered now, Arthur's word, spoken in front of the court, witnessed by a group of ambassadors and foreign nobles, was final, was law.

Merlin stood silent behind Arthur in his customary place, looming like the spectre of wrath. Gwen had no reason to fear them, none at all, and yet, she had never faced them like this, like a regular supplicant, and they made a formidable pair. The place at Arthur's side where she should have been didn't look empty at all.

"I've heard the arguments," Arthur said, "and I have spoken to the Lady and her son. Just before your arrival here, Camelot had been preparing to fight a war with Mercia on your behalf."

And hadn't that been a surprise? Gawain's return had sent both Arthur and Merlin into a frenzy. They'd fought the council tooth and nail to send an army after her, Arthur at the head, and they had been on the verge of breaking every treaty they had with five neighbouring kingdoms. In a way, Gwen's return had been something of an anti-climax, the soldiers and knights still itching for a fight.

In private, after hugging Arthur and Merlin closely, Gwen had laughed and said, "Since they're all here already, why not make a tournament of it?"

"The war," Arthur continued, "would have cost the kingdom greatly, but it would have been the right thing to do. It is no less right and honourable now to offer you a safe place in this court, until one day you can reclaim your throne." He smiled at Gwydre, nodded at Morgana, and the court looked at each other with confusion. Gwen grinned and dared to take Morgana's hand.

+

"I trust you are happy," Arthur said, smiling into his goblet of spicy red wine. He'd had a little too much already, his cheeks burning with the flush of alcohol.

Gwen glanced at Morgana, who'd been seated a good bit away with a few noblewomen she used to know before her marriage to Cern. Morgana looked well, more alive than she had back then, years ago, and less weary than she'd been on the road. Gwen smiled, too, and tried not to blush.

"It has been good," she said, thinking of Morgana's hair running through her fingers. They had yet to figure out where they stood with each other, and there was a lot of baggage to work through, but laughter had grown more frequent and more secure between them.

Arthur nodded and his eyes wandered toward Merlin, always toward Merlin. Gwen couldn't fault him for this, never had, but for the first time she didn't feel that pang of regret, of might-have or could-be, and she realized, sitting at the head of her court, toasting to her people, that she'd finally come home.

+

The courtyard was bustling with life as Gwen dragged Morgana across it, ignoring their retinue of baffled courtiers and put-upon guards. It was market day in town and Gwen felt like she could burst with excitement. She hadn't let herself visit any of the places of her old life since the wedding to Arthur, always afraid that she might make the wrong impression. Today she knew that the only impression that counted was her own. She had only her own heart to obey. It felt glorious.

"Come," she said to Morgana, "I want to show you something."

They ducked into the crowd and from then on they were almost alone in a sea of people, hands locked tight in case the shuffling got any worse. Small boys flitted through the cracks in the wall of people, the river of humanity flowing molasses slow through the streets, nicking fruits and bread and the odd piece of cheap jewellery. Stall owners called after them in the same breath as they pandered their wares, efficient and quite hilarious.

Gwen was recognized, of course, but the physics of market day didn't allow for much deference, and she got to be just one among many. To their surprise, Morgana drew a few stares and several versions of "Welcome home" from merchants and local traders. The baker from High Street gave them both fresh meat pies and a smile.

"For two beautiful ladies," he said.

It was the best day Gwen had had in years, and she laughed freely when young men offered her fealty for a kiss, and paid the baker whose prized cakes had been stolen by the cutest, smallest dog she had ever seen, to the cheers and laughter of her people.

Morgana was silent next to her, smiling but still distant. She fit well into this new, this old life, but somehow the dresses and the curtseys didn't seem to fit her as well as they used to. She still made a striking Lady of the Court, but there was something missing.

"I haven't seen Gwydre all day," Morgana said, a little wistful.

Gwen laughed. "Lancelot has returned early and I've heard tell that Galahad has taken Gwydre under his wing. The two have met only this morning, but they might as well have been born brothers." That drew a real, genuine smile out of Morgana, and Gwen said, "If you're not careful, he'll want to join the tournament." A quick flash was all it was, just the hint of a frown, before Morgana smiled and shook her head. It was enough. Gwen stopped, turned to her friend, her companion-

"Morgana," she said, grave and with not an ounce of mirth. This was no joking matter, it seemed. "Do you not want him to become a warrior? Not all Kings have to fight at the head of their armies, you know. He could be a scholar."

But Morgana shook her head, flushing all down her pale neck. "No, that's not- I think Gwydre would enjoy sword-play as much as any boy. He's got that from his mother."

Gwen laughed, and so did Morgana, but her eyes were cast to the ground. Gwen frowned. "If it's not Gwydre, then perhaps- I mean, after all this, would you even want to- not that I want to put words into your mouth or, you know, make you do anything you didn't want to do-"

Morgana cupped Gwen's face with her right hand, the surest way to quiet her racing thoughts. "What are you asking me?"

Now Gwen was the one blushing. "Would you want to take part in the tournament? You always loved the art of the sword more than its use in war, and I've seen you fight. You are amazing."

Sighing, Morgana looked away. They were still surrounded by people, bodies pressing against them from all sides, but they might as well have been alone. "Gwen, I can't, you know I can't. It's not allowed, no matter how much I may want to show Arthur what I can do."

There was regret in her tone, regret and a deep yearning that Gwen knew from endless nights, a sense that there was something not quite finished within herself. If this could be Morgana's quest, like finding her had been Gwen's, then this had to happen and nothing would stand in the way. Not Arthur's sense of chivalry, not the knights and their ideas of their own strength.

"I am Queen," Gwen said, and truly she was, "and I can name a champion who will fight for me, any champion at all. Arthur won't argue. Well, he won't argue much, anyway."

Morgana's eyes swam with the hint of tears, and her smile was so bright it made Gwen want to be reckless and free. "Would you do me the honour," Gwen asked, "of wearing my colours, Lady Morgana?"

+

Merlin's chambers were beautiful. Books lined every wall, gorgeous leather-bound tomes that put Geoffrey's library to shame. There were vials filled with colourful fluids, small cauldrons and herbs in various states of processing. Layers of dust clung stubbornly to the bedspread, the only place Merlin never used in this, well, in his workroom. Gwen smiled as she watched him stumble about, looking for a particular text. Something about fairies.

"Arthur said I'd find you here," she said. As a rule, Merlin and she had always tried not to talk about anything like Arthur's feelings or their arrangement, and they had never spoken about their own relationship after the wedding, like somehow it was a fragile balance of secrecy and illusion. Gwen was heartily tired of it. "I've come to ask a favour of you, and it has to do with my place as queen."

Merlin blanched, and if his knuckles hadn't gone into rigour, he would have dropped the piece of crystal he'd picked up from the table. Gwen savoured the moment, just a little - there was some resentment here for her, but a few seconds were more than enough to assuage her need for vengeance. It would do her and their friendship no favours to draw it out.

"It's not what you think," she said, wondering if Merlin had lived the past decade waiting for her to take Arthur back, like a harpy looking for prey. Really, that was just insulting. "Oh, Merlin, what are you thinking? That I want to sleep in Arthur's bed when all he can think about is you?"

"Er," Merlin said, blushing to the roots of his hair, "I haven't- I mean, uhm, what is it you wanted?"

Gwen sighed and sat on a chair that didn't seem likely to come alive under her weight. She gave the mess on the table a doubtful glare. "Well," she started, reaching for one of the impossible items that looked like a coin with three sides to keep from wringing her hands, "I would like you to help me out with something." She wanted to qualify, words like "it's not important" trying to force themselves through her lips, but she didn't - if she was going to do this, she couldn't doubt herself this way. "I want to learn about politics, I want to know about our allies and the law and all the things Arthur deals with every day."

Merlin blinked at her, frozen but no longer waiting for a death blow. "Uhm, and you want me to do what, exactly?"

Gwen met his eyes. "Teach me, Merlin. I know that you aren't just an advisor so Arthur can look at your face in council meetings, although I could see why he would do something like that. But you know your way around the workings of the kingdom, and I want to know, too. I want to be able to do more than just sit next to Arthur and look bored."

Merlin nodded, a little dumbstruck, but his expression had lost the anxiety. Now he just looked intrigued. "Okay, yeah, we can do that."

It turned out that most of it was as boring with the knowledge as it was without, but she could see threads running through all those boring details, connections and plots that made it into an intricate and fragile whole. It was both fascinating and horrific when she realized that her quest, her desire to see an old friend - more than that, but a friend nonetheless - could have brought about the death of hundreds, maybe thousands, and the fall of Camelot. That certainly gave her a new appreciation for council meetings about the price of grain.

"Merlin," she said, poring over a dusty tome, "thank you."

He smiled at her, and it was all right. They were both forgiven.

+

The weather was perfect, the crowd ecstatic, the knights full of energy, and Arthur had joined the tournament as a regular fighter. No, there was no special treatment for him, he was neither arrogant nor old enough to make that necessary. Morgana though, for Morgana they had to make exceptions. Not all the knights could make their peace with fighting a woman, and Gwen thought that they were secretly afraid to lose face for being beaten by one. Morgana looked magnificent in full armour, every inch the soldier Gwen had seen on that battlefield, but more so even than that, she was one of the shining heroes. The only one who could match that was Arthur, who still shone like the golden prince he'd been long ago.

Gawain lost to Morgana with a fierce scowl. He hadn't allowed himself to hold back and his frustration was obvious, but the moment Morgana offered him her hand to get up, he smiled and took it with grace. Gwen noted with satisfaction that the foreign knights who'd expected Morgana's inclusion to be a joke were now very quiet and some of them had paled.

There was a lot of posturing in the ranks, so Arthur decided to be quick about his fights. Maybe he wanted to be in a position where he could stop any unsolicited fights on the side-lines, maybe he just didn't draw the same enjoyment from these artificial battles. He'd always been a more direct fighter - despite some of his more flashy moves - where Morgana was all feline grace and evasion. Arthur liked to slam his elbow into other knights' faces.

Lancelot won a couple of rounds, and so did Sir Lionel. At the end, it was just the four of them. Lancelot against Arthur and Lionel against Morgana. Gwen cheered like a peasant, throaty and energetic - dignity was hers to define anyway, and the court had better get used to it.

The fight between Lancelot and Arthur was fast and brutal. Arthur won by sheer luck and because Lancelot hesitated a tenth of a second when he feared a move might do real harm to his sovereign. He was loyal to a fault, really. The worst thing was, they both noticed and both seemed frustrated by the lack of a fair fight, but Lancelot's hands wouldn't strike when Arthur's eyes couldn't see them coming. Arthur won with a scowl on his face.

"Oh," Merlin said, sitting next to Gwen and occasionally grabbing for her hand, "that is going to give him a bad mood for days."

Gwen grinned, and gave Merlin a soothing pat on the hand that was holding hers. "It's all right, Merlin, I'm sure you'll think of something to cheer him up." They both blushed at that and didn't speak for a while.

Morgana's fight with Lionel was one of the most beautiful things Gwen had ever seen. Morgana was lithe, fast, dancing around the arena like she was wearing silk instead of mail, but it was Lionel who surprised them. He wasn't a graceful as Morgana, but there was a sinuous effect to his movements, a slickness that reminded Gwen of coiling snakes. They were well-matched and the clash of their swords seemed to be the only sound. The audience stared, transfixed, and gasped quietly whenever one of them landed a good blow. A stone turned out to be Lionel's downfall, literally, as he stepped on its sharp edge on a backward move. Morgana took the chance, but didn't ask for him to yield until he nodded, with a grin.

"I would have done the same thing," he said, "if you had fallen. Sometimes luck is what makes the battle."

Then it was time for the two finalists to meet, and Arthur still wore his annoyed, slightly pinched expression. While everyone here had seen how good Morgana was, it was still not an enviable position for a champion to be in - if he beat her, people would say it was because she was a woman, and if he lost, he would be the laughingstock of a certain group among the court. But Gwen had her own ideas about those people, and Arthur didn't need to worry. She could be vicious when it came to her friends, and no silly courtier was going to make either Morgana or Arthur feel any less the heroes they were.

"If I win," Arthur said, echoing a conversation from long ago, "you have to wear a dress to the feast." Morgana had hated her dresses back then, they never seemed to fit right and she grew out of them faster than the seamstresses could let them out.

Morgana grinned, bringing the tip of her sword up to meet Arthur's. "And if I win," she said, "you will give me your horse." The horse in question had never taken to Morgana the way she had hoped, and ultimately she'd returned the mare to Arthur with a huff and the suggestion that Arthur had done unspeakable things to the animal to make it pliant.

Gwen reached for Merlin's hand again as the fight began in earnest. Arthur held back for about ten seconds until Morgana snarled and nicked his cheek with her sword. Then they were off in a frantic twisting, a whirl of movement and sweat and a few drops of blood. Morgana kept ducking under Arthur's swings, coming in close and jabbing him in the stomach with her elbow, but Arthur didn't hesitate to kick out her feet from under her, making her roll into a crouch a few feet away. They fought like cats and it made Gwen uneasy in ways she hadn't expected. Merlin, too, was holding on to her like he'd noticed.

"Some unresolved issue, do you think?" Merlin hadn't known them when they were twelve and competitive over every little thing.

But Arthur smirked as he threw away his helmet and Morgana's expression was full of glee. They were having fun. Gwen sighed and wondered what she could possibly say. "They're fighting over some kind of prize," she said, quietly, "Arthur used to tease her into these fights to get her to do his numbers for him."

Merlin chuckled. "I can actually picture that."

"Yeah," Gwen said, "it wasn't always sunshine and roses. One time, I don't even remember how it started, they were fighting over this boy. Some visiting squire with a kind of weird face, they were both fawning over him. It was brutal when they did get around to beating each other, and you know, the funny thing was, they never even talked to the kid."

Arthur was winning. Time had been good to him, and he'd gained an advantage in muscle mass that Morgana couldn't counter, even with slightly superior technique. She wasn't the frenetic warrior of the battlefield either, without the possibility of annihilation she was less inclined to abandon all hope and rush right into a raised sword with nothing but prayer on her side.

She yielded, her sword thrown to the side, her back pressed into the pebbles that made up the ring. Arthur helped her up and the both raised their arms to the crowd, earning a thunderous applause that rang in Gwen's ears for hours. The moment had something powerful about it, almost magic, and she could swear Merlin's eyes were glowing gold as he smiled at his king.

+

"I'm proud of you," Gwen said as she peeled Morgana out of her armour. The mail had a few bent links that would need some care, at least a bit of oil to keep them from tarnishing, but most of the plate was unbent and the padded jack hadn't been cut. Small mercies, that.

Morgana sighed, moaning as she worked her shoulder forward and back, clearly in some kind of pain. Gwen batted her fingers away and carefully touched to heated flesh. Maybe a torn muscle, definitely something Gaius should look at if it didn't get better over night. She worked some salve into it anyway, to keep the muscles from locking up. Morgana shivered a little under her touch and Gwen dropped a hesitant, feather-light kiss onto her shoulder.

"What are you doing?" There was no shock in Morgana's voice, Gwen hadn't expected any.

"Helping you relax before the feast."

Morgana sighed, her head bent so that her hair obscured any view of her face. Gwen fought the urge to just tuck those strands behind Morgana's ear. A part of Gwen wanted to tease, but they weren't there yet, hadn't been for years. It would take time. She slowly let her fingertips wander across the pale skin of Morgana's back, new bruises mixing with old. Gwen blew a kiss on the blade of one shoulder, then the other.

"I, please Gwen, I- we can't. I don't want-"

Gwen stilled, her head leaning against Morgana's shoulder. Her heart was beating much too fast. "If you don't want this," Gwen said, trying to sound like she wasn't shaking apart at the seams, "then please, forgive me my forwardness. I will not ask again." Gwen stepped away and her hands fell to her sides. This was it, then. She'd gotten it wrong, all of it.

Morgana, however, turned around, hair flying wild. "Gwen," she said, her voice unsteady, unsure, like nothing Gwen had heard from her before. "It's not- I do want, so much. There were days when only the thought of your smiles got me through." Morgana got up, then, and walked toward her, backing Gwen against the cool stone wall. "I've thought about your mouth," Morgana said, licking her lips in an unconscious gesture. "I've thought about kissing you."

Gwen grinned, still shaking, but for a different reason. Morgana was so close, Gwen could smell the hint of iron, the faint residue of drying blood. "Then what's stopping you?"

"I'm not looking for quick release," Morgana said, placing her hands on the wall, framing Gwen's face. "If you wish to go back to Arthur, to anyone, say so now. I don't share the things I love." Arthur could attest to that, and so could Gwen, they'd all grown up together, even if Gwen had been somewhat removed both through the workings of society and her own hesitant heart. Morgana had always been fiercely jealous.

Gwen laughed. "I'm not anyone's plaything," she said, leaning their foreheads together, "you can't own me like that horse you never rode or the armour that didn't fit you right."

"Hm," said Morgana. She pressed a kiss to Gwen's mouth, almost chaste, and Gwen followed her mouth as she pulled away. "Be with me, then," Morgana said, "we're equals now, adults, we can do anything."

Gwen thought of wars and tournaments and the curve of Gwydre's smile. "Yeah," she said, "we really can."

When she kissed Morgana, there was nothing chaste about it, and she licked at Morgana's mouth, nipped her jaw. This was a beginning, finally.

"And tonight," Morgana said, as she tugged Gwen toward the bed, "tonight you will dance with me."

And Gwen said, "yes," like it meant be mine, be mine forever.

.